


Knives Out

by sybaritick



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Chubby Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Feeding Kink, Hansel and Gretel Elements, Horror, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Journalist Connor (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Manipulation, Mild Hypno Kink, Naga, Naga Elijah Kamski, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-21 03:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybaritick/pseuds/sybaritick
Summary: “No need to justify your coffee to me,” Kamski said with a smile. “I prefer my coffee black, but we should all allow ourselves more pleasure and less self-judgement. Meaningless asceticism helps no one.”“All of that justification and you take yours black?”“I happen to enjoy it that way.”





	1. don't look down

_If you please and pamper your stomach, you will hurl yourself over the precipice of bodily impurity, into the fire of wrath and fury, you will coarsen and darken your mind, and in this way you will ruin your powers of attention and self-control, your sobriety and vigilance._

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye Connor saw the light click off in one of the second-floor windows, and the car in the driveway didn’t have a single flake on it despite the ground being coated in at least a few inches of snow.  _Someone_ was home, and if he waited long enough, they’d answer the door.

Connor held the doorbell down again, this time for a good few seconds. Something slammed inside with an angry thud. Good sign.

He let go of the bell and rapped his knuckles against the door three times.

Silence.

He knocked three more times and adjusted his scarf, scanning the first-floor windows for movement.

This time, he caught a glimpse of half a man’s face through the window-- long, black hair, deep creases under his eyes, a fitted gray t-shirt.

_Bingo._

He pressed the doorbell again, but before he could hold it down for more than a second, the door unlatched and opened into his face. He stumbled backwards, catching his balance on the porch railing.

“Mr. Kamski!” Connor blurted out, wiping the snow from his cheek with the sleeve of his jacket.

The door pulled shut again.

“No! I mean, I only want to ask--” Connor yelled, lunging for the door handle before the man could lock it again.

Kamski stopped the door when it was open just a crack. The cold February light gave his blue eye and the sliver of his cheek Connor could see through the door an icy glow.

“I will tell you this _once_ ,” Kamski spat. “Leave me alone.”

That was him, all right. Connor had spent the past week watching every recording of Kamski he could find-- he would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Please, Mr. Kamski,” Connor started, before the man could slam the door again. “I only want to ask you a few questions.”

“And I don’t want to answer them. You won’t get your story from me.”

Connor stepped back and raised his hands, showing his palms in burgundy fair isle mittens.

“Please, just a few minutes of your time, and I will never bother you again.”

“If you don’t get off my doorstep,” Kamski snarled, “I’m going to call the police.”

“I’ve watched every interview you’ve ever done,” Connor pressed, ignoring the threat.

He pulled off a mitten and went to unzip the messenger bag he carried. Kamski snorted dismissively.

“I’m a journalism major and I still managed to struggle through reading your senior thesis,” Connor added, talking faster. “And I had to go out to Colbridge myself to get it.”

“And you didn’t understand a word of it, I’m sure.”

“Not as much as I could if you helped me. But your research on natural language processing-- they still study it in AI classes-- and I would have been a computer science major--” Connor bluffed.

“Of course you were. You’ll really say anything, huh?”

“ _Please_ ,’ Connor begged.

“Yeah, go to hell.”

Connor grabbed the door with his unmittened hand just as Kamski shut it, slamming his fingers against the doorframe with a sickening crunch.

“GOD-- fuck--” Connor swore, pulling his hand out of the doorframe.

He clutched his fingers gently in his other hand and grimaced.

“I get harassment from people like you once a month or so, but you-- you have the distinction of being by far the worst,” Kamski said idly. “Can you move them?”

Connor tilted his head curiously, and Kamski gave an exasperated sigh.

“Your fingers. Can you move them?”

Connor flexed his hand slowly and winced. His pinky and ring finger were horribly swollen and barely moved.

Kamski closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re an idiot.”

He shook his head, mumbling something to himself, and swung open the door, finally letting the journalist see him.

“Oh my god-- oh my god--” Connor started, gripping the railing.

Below the man’s t-shirt, his legs were absent, replaced by the glistening black scales of a snake. His eyes followed Kamski’s body as it narrowed into a tail. Altogether he had to be no less than twenty feet long, probably closer to twenty-five; completely human from his waist up and thoroughly inhuman from the waist down.

“Did you-- and you--” Connor stuttered. “You built--”

Kamski waited for Connor to finish looking at him. The journalist’s eyes snapped back and forth between his body and his face, his human torso and his thick tail.

“Perhaps you understand now my reluctance to allow the press into my home.”

“Yes,” Connor managed.

He paused, trying to find further words.

“I’m sorry,” he began, unsure what else to say.

Kamski held up a hand to stop him.

“Provided you take this at face value and are sufficiently convinced you’re not hallucinating,” he suggested, “come in, and I'll get ice for your hand. Is that agreeable?”

“Yes,” Connor repeated.

Kamski held the door open, and Connor stepped cautiously inside.

“Would you like coffee?” Kamski said, glancing over him.

“Would I-- yes,” Connor answered, color creeping into his cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Chloe?"

Kamski glanced up the staircase, and Connor turned, unsure who he was speaking to.

A blonde girl stood watching from the stairs. She looked to be about his age-- perhaps in her late twenties-- and had her hair tied back in a low ponytail. She gave Connor an odd look before turning back to Kamski.

“Start coffee for our guest and I, please,” he said, “and bring some ice for his hand.”

She nodded and made her way downstairs.

Connor padded into the expansive house as Kamski followed closely behind. He had to admit it was unnerving having the man behind him-- for the obvious reason that he was… some type of alien, perhaps, or the victim of some strange biomedical experimentation. Kamski moved near-silently, with a sound distinctly different from that of a human walking-- just the slow, quiet slide of the smooth scales on his belly against the hardwood floor.

The hallway opened into a large room occupied mostly by a swimming pool. The sides and bottom of the pool were tiled in deep red, giving the water the thick, opaque appearance of blood. Connor flinched at the sight of it.

Kamski laughed.

“Apologies for my poor taste in interior design. Sit down,” he said, gesturing at the couch.

Connor nodded and sat down, leaning against the armrest, while Kamski relaxed into a plush chair across from him. His tail curled around and under the chair easily, its tip settling under the coffee table just beside Connor’s feet.

Connor consciously avoided shifting away from it and forced a smile.

“I understand you’re uncomfortable,” Kamski reassured. “I was for months.”

He lifted the tip of his tail and brushed against the side of Connor’s leg through his dark jeans, from his knee down to his ankle.

Connor gave an involuntary shiver, and looked up to apologize, but Kamski spoke before he could.

“I apologize for that. I just wanted to show you-- it’s like another hand. Nothing more. Perhaps a distraction from your hand while Chloe gets the ice.”

Connor swallowed and nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Connor."

“And you work for?”

Connor hesitated.

“A tabloid, I’m sure. Don’t be embarrassed about your employer,” Kamski said. “You should only be embarrassed by your behavior outside my home.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor repeated. “ _Gossips Weekly_.”

“I’m sure they love you, hm?” Elijah’s smile twitched into a smirk. “About to break down my door for a story. I suppose I understand. This would certainly be a story.”

He gestured at himself absently.

“Mr. Kamski, I had no idea--” Connor started.

“Good, you shouldn’t have,” Kamski said. “And it’s Elijah. The less this is like the interview you wanted, the better. I don’t intend to reward you for harassing retired former celebrities.”

“You were more than a celebrity,” Connor prods by way of an answer.

“Yes, yes, billionaire CEO and still the richest man in the world. Do I not donate enough for them to leave me alone? Run a story on the malaria prevention and de-worming programs I give millions to every year.”

Connor paused.

“It’s very generous of you.”

“But not a story,” Kamski added derisively.

Before they could continue, Chloe entered with a tray in one hand and a small bag of ice in the other. Kamski thanked her when she set all of it on the coffee table, and she gave him a polite nod before leaving.

Kamski passed Connor the ice wrapped in a thin kitchen towel, and Connor pressed it to his hand.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve broken any bones, unless it’s feeling worse now?” Kamski questioned.

“No, I’m sure it will be okay,” Connor answered.

“I won’t wrap it; it needs the blood flow. Just keep it elevated on the armrest like you’re doing and keep the ice on it.”

Connor nodded.

Kamski took the carafe from the tray and poured coffee to an inch below the rim of a ceramic mug before setting it near Connor. He took the other mug for himself, and filled it before taking a slow sip.

“Cream? Sugar?” Kamski offered.

Connor smiled, and desperate not to seem like he was incapable of doing anything for himself, poured a rounded spoonful of cane sugar into the mug, followed by two more and a generous amount of half-and-half.

Kamski watched as he took another sip from his own mug.

“I drink too much Starbucks,” Connor admitted defensively, noticing Kamski’s look.

“No need to justify it to me,” Kamski said with a smile. “I prefer my coffee black, but we should all allow ourselves more pleasure and less self-judgement. Meaningless asceticism helps no one.”

“All of that justification and you take yours black?”

“Just preference,” Kamski answered. “Is this an interview question?”

Connor smiled and shifted to press the ice pack to the other side of his fingers. “If you’ll allow it.”

Kamski settled into the chair, curling his tail back around the base. “I suppose I’ll indulge you.”

Connor consciously avoided asking about Elijah’s body, but it seemed to crop up at every turn, and he found himself awkwardly phrasing everything to avoid it. He was sure Elijah could tell he was thinking about it, but it still felt safer not to mention it.

He tried to hide his furtive glances down at Elijah’s body, but his curiosity was palpable. Of course he was curious how he had gotten this way-- what he ate or drank, though he seemed to be able to drink coffee at least-- whether he had done it on purpose?

Chloe returned only to set down a plate of red velvet cookies on a kitschy plate decorated with glittering hearts. It looked distinctly out of place amongst the contemporary black and red of the rest of Kamski’s imposing home, but in that sense there was something almost sweet about it; the plate was Chloe’s, Connor considered, or perhaps held some nostalgic memories.

The cookie Connor took was delicious - soft and warm from the oven, with white chocolate chips that had were still just slightly melted. After seeing Chloe’s glowing smile, he felt more than justified in taking another while Elijah described how he had come to start a company at sixteen.

He knew that Elijah had clearly been fully human when he was still CEO, and his sudden and mysterious retirement had been only five years ago-- so whatever this was must have happened between then and now.

That, or it was the reason for said “sudden and mysterious retirement.”

It only took a few more questions before Kamski’s eyes glittered with enthusiasm at Connor’s curiosity. He answered with a care that made Connor feel oddly comforted. His focused attention to the questions gave Connor the creeping curiosity as to whether the man always made this much eye contact. Still, something about his cool blue eyes and the way they tracked Connor’s impatient pen-tapping and hair-fixing was insistent but neuroleptic, and instead of being unnerving he found it almost sedative in its effect.

Connor felt grateful for the relief; it was good to feel more at ease, and the questions flowed from his tongue easily as he took notes on Kamski’s personal projects and the supposed reasons he had retired.

He had eaten another of the cookies Chloe had set out before realizing he should probably stop out of politeness, but in the thick of asking a detailed follow-up question on natural language processing he found himself holding half of a fourth.

“Alright,” Elijah said good-naturedly, after Connor’s pen finally ceased its persistent scratching. “I imagine you have enough material.”

“Yes-- thank you, Mr. Kamski--”

“Elijah. And your fingers are somewhat better--?”

“Yes-- thank you, again, I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“Pay it no mind. I very rarely have the pleasure of company.”

Connor smiled and zipped his notebook and pen into his bag. He stopped himself from awkwardly thanking Kamski for a third time, and then thanked Chloe instead, who was standing beside the table carefully packing the cookies into a Ziploc bag.

“Your cookies were amazing,” Connor commented.

“Take them,” she insisted, handing the bag to him.

“I really couldn’t. You’ve been so kind to me already--”

“Oh, take them, Connor,” Kamski repeated from the armchair, where he was reading something from his laptop.

“Chloe enjoys baking, and she’s a wonderful chef, but I’m a vegan. I’m sure she was thrilled with the opportunity to finally have someone try her cookies instead of refusing them like a pretentious hipster,” he laughed.

Chloe stifled a laugh, and it came out as something between a snort and a hum that Connor couldn’t help but smile at.

“He’s right, you know.”

“Thank you,” Connor relented with a smile. “If I tell anyone how nice you were, you’ll have people banging down your door every day.”

“Keep our secret, then,” Kamski answered. “I don’t need anyone else to injure their hand in my doorframe.”

“I will,” Connor promised.

He shut the door gently behind him, and Kamski smiled after him.

“You let him go,” Chloe said, after a moment’s pause.

Kamski looked up from his laptop at her curious expression.

“That I did.”

Chloe paused, waiting for him to elaborate. He did, after another sip of lukewarm coffee.

“He’ll come back.”


	2. catch the mouse

_Let me have men about me that are fat;_

_sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights._

_Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look._

_He thinks too much; such men are dangerous._

* * *

The doorbell gave a long, muffled buzz as Connor held his finger to the button outside. Elijah opened it before Connor had time to wonder how long it would take for him to answer.

“Connor,” Elijah greeted, looking him up and down. “I suppose I guessed correctly that you wouldn’t be keeping your promise to leave me alone.”

Connor gave him a guilty half-smile.

“They want a picture as proof I was ever here.”

Kamski paused for a moment before holding the door open.

“Come inside.”

He watched after Connor with a guarded satisfaction. The boy’s comfort was visible in his words, his gait, his facial expressions: he had let himself in, but Elijah was more than happy to issue a retroactive invitation.

Connor was slim and bright-eyed, with a light blue button-down tucked into khakis that had not been ironed and perhaps should have been. He was soft only in that he was not muscular; the fairly low amount of body fat that he had presented itself as a small pooch on his lower belly and the slightest feminine thickness to his hips.

Elijah noted this with interest, and could not help but be curious as to whether sending him home with another plate or two of Chloe’s rich cookies would encourage his appetite for sweets. He had felt a twinge of pleasure even just observing Connor pouring spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee.  

“Is there any particular setting you’d prefer?” Elijah offered. “I imagine you want more than a headshot, but even _Gossips Weekly_ would refuse to publish anything so obviously doctored as a photo of the former CyberLife CEO with a snake tail.”

“Perhaps in your lab,” Connor suggested, “to tie in to your focus on personal projects and further AI research.”

“A good idea,” Elijah agreed. “I’ll be back in a nicer shirt in a few minutes. Make yourself at home.”

It was definitely odd for someone he had met only once a week prior to tell him to make himself at home, but he chalked it up to Kamski’s tendency to be so enthusiastically hospitable. Connor knew he didn’t have many visitors.

He wandered into the kitchen after hearing a timer go off and found Chloe in an apron, pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven. They smelled like heaven: sweet and warm like apple pie, spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg.

“Connor! It’s good to see you back,” Chloe commented.

She turned to him for a second and smiled before going back to carefully transferring the oatmeal cookies to cooling racks.

“Those smell delicious.”

“I’m glad there’s someone other than me to taste-test them. They’re apple cinnamon oatmeal. I made a few changes to the recipe, but I don’t know if they’re actually going to be better,” Chloe admitted.

“I had to stop myself from asking whether you would have cookies again,” Connor admitted. “Those red velvet ones disappeared way too quickly.”

Chloe smiled, and Connor couldn’t help but give a smile back.

“Thank you! I’m just happy there’s even someone to eat them,” Chloe said. “You need to come back more often!”

By the time Kamski returned, Connor had eaten two of Chloe’s cookies and was eyeing a third that he was a bit too shy to take.

Kamski looked neat and professional in a collared shirt, and with the sleeves rolled to the elbows Connor felt something approaching attraction to his easy confidence. He couldn’t help but wonder whether Kamski had ever had a human lover after becoming... what he had become-- but embarrassed, he chased the thought away as quickly as it had come. He stuttered out a comment about how he was ready to take a photo any time.

Taking photos of Elijah certainly didn’t help Connor think about him any less. The man was hardly posed-- just quietly cleaning the parts of a motherboard that looked like it had some type of water damage while Connor found flattering angles that avoided anything below the chest. He stopped every few minutes to comment on what he was working on, breaking the functions of the ports and connectors into digestible chunks that Connor understood easily. It was almost endearing, if a bit condescending.

Once Connor let him know he thought he had gotten a few good shots, Elijah rose from his desk chair and thanked him.

Connor nodded, blinking at the light from the window in his eyes.

The pause afterwards had a weight Connor almost felt in his chest. The two were standing uncomfortably close together, and Connor's stomach clenched with what he was now very certain was an unfortunate crush.

Kamski took the opportunity for what it was; he leaned into Connor, wrapping an arm around his back as he pressed their lips together. Connor reciprocated enthusiastically, taking Elijah’s lip between his before they broke apart with childish embarrassment.

Kamski rested a hand on Connor’s waist and gave him a self-satisfied grin, and Connor saw now why he never seemed to open his mouth too far.

Each of the man’s teeth were narrowed to a point, with the four incisors longer and sharper than a human’s; it was a flash of his inhumanity on proud display, yellow-white and carnivorous. Connor tensed despite himself.

Elijah’s smile disappeared at Connor’s look. He blinked and put his hand on the journalist’s shoulder.

Connor felt his skin tingle where Kamski rested a heavy hand on him, even through his shirt-- something between interest and discomfort. There was something reassuring in Elijah’s eyes, and the weight to the man’s touch made him want to lean closer. He smiled awkwardly, trying not to show his embarrassment.

“I apologize, Connor, I forgot myself--” Kamski almost mumbled, opening his mouth just enough to speak. “I know my teeth can be disturbing. I find myself wondering whether there’s something that can be done about it-- some surgery I could get. But then I remember I couldn’t see a surgeon in this state.”

Connor felt a pang of guilt at the man’s mumbling. Despite looking like a monster, Elijah had shown him nothing but hospitality.

\---

It was late afternoon, and the trees were just beginning to bud in Detroit. It had been a cold March, but the first few weeks of April brought warmer weather and a sweet smell to the air. Elijah and Connor were relaxed together on the couch, watching some movie Connor expressed marginal interest in.

It was Connor’s sixth visit, or maybe seventh-- he had nearly lost count at this point, but he was glad he no longer needed much of an excuse to enjoy Elijah’s company. After the painfully awkward photo shoot, the two had exchanged phone numbers, and Connor could never bring himself to turn down one of Elijah’s dinner invitations.

Still, Elijah had been hesitant after their first few kisses: even though he seemed clearly interested, he seemed like he was holding himself back, hesitant for some reason.

When he finally put an arm around Connor’s shoulders that afternoon, Connor felt something between warmth and relief. The cool air in the mansion made Elijah’s closeness feel even more earnest and protective, and Connor let his eyes close for a minute to enjoy it.

Connor shifted a half-inch closer to him on the couch, and Elijah gently rested his tail over Connor’s lap. It was thick and heavier than he had expected, but didn’t feel unpleasant; he felt a blush creeping up his cheeks at how _nice_ it felt, how it perhaps would feel to have that same thickness wrapped around his body.

The movie droned on in the background-- an action flick neither of them were paying any attention to-- and Connor found himself glancing back at Kamski’s clear-blue eyes, at the length of his tail hanging off the edge of the couch and pooling near Connor’s feet.

Empowered by Elijah’s slightly-more-forwardness, he rubbed gentle circles on the tail in his lap and shifted closer still. Elijah turned to him with a fiendish smile and wove his tail around Connor’s body, and Connor shifted to accommodate the coils as the tail-tip snaked behind his back.

It felt something between a hug and a straitjacket, but still closer to the first than the second, and Connor’s squirming exposed his neck for Kamski to leave a row of greedy kisses. The tip of his tail snuck under Connor’s shirt, and Connor shifted self-consciously at Kamski’s insistence at wrapping around his now-softer belly.

The phone rang loudly from the other room, and Kamski sighed theatrically.

"Chloe, go check the phone. I’m not expecting any calls but let me know if it’s business."

She nodded and jogged out of the kitchen wordlessly. Elijah kissed Connor eagerly the moment he turned back to him, binding his arms to his sides before he could reach up to retaliate.

The phone had only rang three times before Chloe got to it, and she picked it up immediately.

"Hello. Elijah Kamski's residence, this is Chloe speaking."

“I’m looking for Connor Stern,” the woman on the phone answered, almost cutting her off. “Is he there?”

“May I ask who I’m speaking to?”

“North, I’m Connor’s coworker.”

“This is a private number, and Elijah has asked that members of the media respect his privacy.”

“I need to know if Connor is there.”

“I’m not privy to information about who Elijah meets with and his exact schedule. I assume that if the person you’re looking for is here at all they’ve already left considering it’s nine o’clock at night.”

Chloe lied easily, smooth like top-shelf liquor and just as disarming. But she felt a pang of guilt at the genuine concern in the woman’s voice-- unlike her own, the caller’s tone was brusque but feminine, someone willing to fight.

“If you’re sincerely concerned about his safety and whereabouts, I recommend you call the police.” Chloe said, as if that’d assuage any guilt.

“Is there someone else I can talk to?”

 _“There isn’t,”_ Chloe pictured herself answering, with the Stepford cheer she had grown used to using for Kamski’s personal calls. The personality was half-invented and half what the man himself preferred. Chloe was disarmingly cute: almost too sexy to be the girl-next-door, but with a face just innocent enough to squeak by. Her short dresses and endearing shyness were enough to ensnare political rivals and laugh politely as businessmen spilled their secrets over champagne.

But this-- this was no skeevy businessman, no rival CEO she’d take pleasure in deceiving.

“Hello?” repeated North over the phone.

Chloe swallowed thickly.

“There isn’t,” Chloe answered.

She pressed the end call button, clicked off the screen and threw the phone onto Elijah’s bed. Deciding whether this counted as a fuck-up or not at least held some distraction.

When she looked up a few moments later, Connor was standing in the doorway, the top two buttons of his shirt still open.

“Chloe?” Connor asked.

Chloe turned to him, eyes narrowed in curiosity.

“Elijah is-- getting something from his bedroom, he said,” Connor explained. “But I wanted to ask if you know-- if you will tell me what happened.”

His voice found its confidence at the end of the phrase, and he looked at Chloe expectantly.

Chloe paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. For all she had lied for Kamski, she had never had to answer this before; none of his victims had the opportunity or the nerve to figure it out before they had been… invited for dinner, and not in the sense that Connor had been.

Her eyes flicked over to the phone on the bed. She knew Elijah could easily be listening to her right now, but was it paranoia or healthy fear?

“Elijah… was cursed, somehow. Spirits, or old gods, something like that.”

Connor looked at her incredulously.

“Spirits don’t exist.”

“I never believed it either. But there’s no other reasonable explanation. He hasn’t said much about it to me either. He said it came to him like a dream-- and I can confirm, he just woke up like this one day. I called in to claim he had a personal emergency.”

Connor listened, watching her eyes.

“Two weeks later, he stepped down as CEO, claiming medical problems too serious to continue running the company,” Chloe explained.

She ran the hem of her dress between her fingers, and said nothing further.

\---

“Dinner’s ready!” Chloe called from the kitchen, snapping the both of them out of the moment.

Kamski’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and he gave Connor a smile somewhere between teasing and apologetic.

“I suppose we’ll have to table this for now. But I hope you’ve brought your appetite,” he commented, with a playful grope at Connor’s middle.

“ _Elijah_ ,” Connor protested, pushing his hand away. “You’re going to make me fat.”

“Nonsense,” Kamski answered, kissing his forehead as Connor stood up from the couch.

A meal or two every week with Elijah and Chloe shouldn’t have had an effect, but after a few months he had gained a noticeable layer of chub. They always sent him home with such good desserts-- and even the morning after he had eaten his weight in pad thai, Connor felt like he was always so hungry nowadays.  

And he was certainly hungry now. The pair made their way to the kitchen, and Chloe ladled a generous serving of fettuccine alfredo onto Connor’s plate and a significantly smaller amount on her own.

Elijah never ate when they did, aside from coffee and the occasional glass of wine-- always claiming the food wasn’t vegan (which it wasn’t, admittedly) and he had already eaten. Connor wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he imagined perhaps he had to follow a specific diet after the curse-- who knew whether his digestive system was still human or not.

He tried to pay no mind to it. He and Elijah always seemed to find something to discuss, and he soon grew more comfortable with eating even after Chloe had finished whatever small portions she served herself. Elijah’s suggestion that there might be job opportunities for him at CyberLife sounded almost too good to be true, and despite knowing he was lucky to even have a job at _Gossips_ , he knew what he really wanted to be doing was more serious journalistic work.

Still, Connor was grateful for the company while he ate. The pasta was delicious, and he could barely help himself from taking more. The pleasant, fuzzy warmth to Elijah’s voice seemed to subdue his superego, and satisfying his taste buds was easy and guiltless.

By the time he had cleared his plate of a second helping, Connor’s belly pressed against the waistband of his jeans. As he always seemed to on his visits to Kamski’s estate, he had eaten more than he intended to-- especially given Chloe’s tendency to offer seconds.

Still, he knew he had no one to blame but himself for his spotless plate. Chloe stood up to get something from the kitchen and wordlessly offered to take his dishes.

“That was delicious. I’m stuffed,” Connor admitted.

“Too stuffed for dessert?” Chloe offered, collecting his plate.

Connor could have _sworn_ he was too full for another bite just minutes ago, but Chloe’s baking was near-irresistible, and her smile bordered on flirtatious.

“If I don’t watch out, I won’t be able to fit into my jeans tomorrow,” Connor answered after her. Chloe only giggled, and Elijah gave his typical enigmatic half-smile.

But he knew anything but a direct _no_ was just admitting defeat, and when Chloe came back, she brought a devil’s-food cake that Connor had no chance against. The thick slice that Elijah set in front of him looked mouthwatering: rich and dark with a careful coating of chocolate buttercream icing. After Chloe had been given a small slice for herself, Connor dug in.

The cake tasted as delicious as it looked, and Connor took bite after bite in between idle conversation about recent breakthroughs in longevity research and whether _American Idol_ would ever stop running.

He let out a small burp a minute or two after finishing the last of it, and covered his mouth in embarrassment after a mumbled _excuse me_.

Elijah _smiled_ at him, and Connor felt his cheeks flush. He was painfully aware of how thoroughly he had cleaned his plate after both dinner and dessert.

Kamski’s tail wove its way closer to him, threading between the legs of his chair.

Over time, Connor had come to the obvious realization that Elijah enjoyed watching him eat. It was was odd, but tolerable-- the man had a number of strange habits and interests and perhaps he just enjoyed being hospitable.

“Would you like another piece?”

“I really shouldn’t,” Connor said, sparing a moment’s glance down at his stomach.

Chloe took her empty plate back to the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

“But you want to. Otherwise you would never have chosen to use _shouldn’t_ ,” Elijah offered with a crooked smile.

“Yes, I--” Connor floundered. “I can’t just eat anything I want to all of the time. But I do appreciate them, I love Chloe’s cooking-- but you send me home with all of these sweets, and I know that hasn’t been good for my waistline--”

“If you’ve put on weight, it’s really only a couple of pounds,” Kamski pointed out.

He leaned closer, tail winding up Connor’s calf until the tip was curled around his thigh.

“You’ve always been on the skinny side.”

Elijah rose from his chair to cut another piece for him, and set it on the table next to them before reaching down to unbutton Connor’s jeans.


	3. look into my mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now with art that i love so much i might cry by [@lovelovekiwi1](https://twitter.com/lovelovekiwi1)! this is so wonderful... god look at Con's messy hair and that soft belly... mmmkamski's valid for wanting to eat him 🐍

_Greed is alright, by the way. I think greed is healthy. I want you to know that, I think greed is healthy. You can be greedy and still feel good about yourself._

\---

The phone buzzed again under Chloe’s thigh.

It was the third time today; as Kamski’s interest in Connor had grown, the attention he paid to her waned, and she was left dealing with whatever responsibilities that left behind.

She recognized the number as North’s, unsure why her mind had forced her to remember those specific nine digits. After hanging up on her weeks before, Chloe felt torn between obligation to finally answer her calls and a guilt so heavy she couldn’t make herself pick up.

There was no way North hadn’t seen Connor in the month between that first call and now; Connor was here a few nights a week, sure, and he often stayed over during weekends, but other than that he lived his life as before. Why else would North call, though?

Guileless and resolute, she hit the button to answer before the ringing stopped or her nerves could get the best of her again.

"Hello. Elijah Kamski's residence, this is--”

“Chloe?”

North asking after her in recognition flooded Chloe’s thoughts with something between distrust and longing.

“This is she.”

“I need you to tell me about Kamski.”

Chloe managed to inhale half a breath. North’s firmness manifested itself as a shamefaced pressure against her chest.

“What about him?” Chloe answered.

“He’s a serial killer.”

Chloe sat down on her bed silently, rubbing meaningless circles on the sheets with her thumb.

“The evidence I have that Elijah Kamski has disappeared a dozen people makes me wonder how incompetent the Detroit police are. This isn’t some tabloid story.”

Chloe swallowed the voice from the back of her throat threatened to call for Elijah.

“He isn’t--”

“You knew,” North interrupted immediately. “You would be talking if you didn’t know, you would be telling me I was insane. The question is whether you’re going to tell me what’s going on with Connor.”

The ticking of Chloe’s wall clock was so insistent that for a moment she wondered whether North heard it.

“Chloe. Are you still there?”

\---

Connor stood on the stairs, the water up to his thighs. Elijah moved through the pool with the grace of a moccasin, and the surface remained so eerily undisturbed it was easy to lose sight of him against the dark tile-- until he shot out of the water to grab Connor from behind.

“ _ELIJAH_!” Connor gasped, stumbling into him with an ungraceful splash.

Elijah caught him easily and laughed, gently pushing him back to his feet.

“Don’t do that,” Connor said defensively.

“What?” Elijah said, wrapping his tail around Connor’s legs underwater and grinding up against him.

“Swimming like that is-- cheating,” Connor managed as Elijah’s tail pulled him deeper. “You’re like a cottonmouth.”

“What does that make you?”

He brushed his fingers into the short hair at the nape of Connor’s neck, and Connor leaned into a quick kiss, trying not to smile.

“Something unwitting,” Connor joked after they pulled apart. “A pond frog who didn’t hear you coming.”

“And such a _juicy_ one,” Kamski teased, sliding a hand up Connor’s swim trunks to squeeze at a soft thigh.

“You’ve fattened me up to have me for dessert.”

Connor squirmed playfully, but Elijah gripped him like a vice, binding his legs together and his arms to his sides. Connor tried to push him off, but even with his full weight behind him the thick coils were hopelessly unmovable. In moments, the pressure was enough to bear down heavy on his ribcage when he tried to inhale, and his muffled splashing became panicked.

He was aware, now, of how little of his strength Kamski had been using before-- how much stronger he was than he had let on.

“ _You don't know what you're saying,_ ” Kamski hissed.

“ _Stop_ \--” Connor gasped out, tugging uselessly at Elijah’s tail.

At the word Kamski released his grip, and his tail curled out and away from the boy as he gently held his shoulder to steady him.

Kamski’s voice softened. “You don’t know how you’re tempting me.”

“Elijah,” Connor mumbled, “oh my god, I--”

He slowly backed up two stairs, heart still thudding in his throat.

“I’m so sorry, Connor--” Elijah began, reaching out to him again.

“No,” Connor interrupted, backing up another step. “I need a minute. Please.”

His voice broke on the last word, and Kamski nodded respectfully.

Connor left a trail of wet footprints from the shallow pool steps to where a towel laid across the back of one of the uncomfortable-looking chairs.

Kamski watched closely when Connor’s attention was turned, interest piqued by the layer of chub that jiggled just slightly when Connor adjusted his waistband. The boy pulled the towel around his waist, and glanced at himself for a moment in the mirror at the start of the hallway.

He felt the back of his neck prickle with discomfort. Behind his own reflection, he could see Kamski’s eyes trained covetously on his body.

\---

He pulled the door shut too quickly behind him and locked it before even turning the lights on.

Like the rest of Elijah’s house, the bathroom was sparsely decorated and sterile; a gleaming white marble countertop, a tasteful potted orchid, his bare feet on the cold tile.

He stood for a moment as he caught his breath, watching the rise and fall of his chest in the mirror.

He had gained more weight than he wanted to. It had been fast, of course, but just gradual enough not to alarm him as much as it might have. He squeezed at a handful of belly fat, jiggling it gently. Five months of regular visits had left him with an endless hunger for sweets that Kamski always made sure to indulge.

What once seemed a strange practice had become surprisingly normal; together on the couch Kamski offered him something delicious and fattening, encouraged him to identify the Tahitian vanilla and single-origin cacao. One who devoured a box of chocolates in an evening was not a glutton, but a gourmet; a connoisseur with an appetite made noble by Elijah’s insistence that feeding the stomach was feeding the soul.

In the past few weeks he had often taken to staying the night; driving home so late in the evening was tiresome and lonely. He knew that if he stayed it would be in Elijah’s warm bed, and he would offer him hot chocolate as they cuddled and watched the vapid reality shows that were his guilty pleasure. Whatever room had been made by Kamski’s gentle belly rubs would be filled by warm sugar and fat before he drifted to sleep.

That, he knew, was to blame for what he saw in the mirror. The months of overeating had turned his appetite into a veritable monster-- he was always hungry, even on the days he didn’t see Kamski, and if he didn’t stop himself he could easily demolish two meals’ worth of leftovers for lunch the next day.

He leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting a pimple on his cheek, and pressed his hand against it to steady himself. When he glanced down at his hand, he noticed a strangeness about the reflection. It took him a few moments to realize it was one he recognized from spy movies and cop shows; his fingertip touched the one in his reflection directly, with no gap between them.

If it looked odd, that meant that a normal mirror made a gap, right? He didn’t remember whether being able to touch your reflection was the good one or the bad one, but he assumed if it looked slightly off… perhaps it was just paranoia? Would Elijah really have any reason to have a two-way mirror in his bathroom?

He knocked on the mirror gently. It made a hollow sound, he was sure of it-- closer to that of a window-- but he had nothing to test it against to confirm it meant anything. Still, it was enough to turn his stomach. He had to check.

Connor left the bathroom light on and opened the door cautiously. The hallway was quiet but for the soft purr of the air conditioner, staving off the first real June weather.

The door next to the bathroom didn’t look special, but neither did any of the others. But if the bathroom mirror was a window, this would be the other side.

He knocked twice and listened for a moment. Nothing.

The door opened to a dark room. Connor fumbled for a lightswitch. Even with it on, the room was fairly dimly lit. It was the size of a large storage closet, but complete with a desk and chair along with the rows of bookshelves.

Across from them, of course, was a clear view of the bathroom, through to the glass-walled shower Connor had used two nights before.

He felt sick.

Of course Kamski was some kind of fucking pervert. It wasn’t even about Kamski seeing him in the shower-- he had seen him in far more compromising positions than that. It was the principle of it. There had been more before him.

He turned to the desk. Among the piles of looseleaf and sticky notes there was a thick, well-used notebook. Connor opened it to where it naturally fell. It was no sin to invade the privacy of a man who clearly had no respect for it.

Notes, in exacting, scientific detail. It was about a person; Amelia, her name was.

5’2”, with green eyes and auburn hair in loose curls. A graphic designer who worked in Detroit proper.

Lives alone, the page noted.

Week-by-week entries filled the next two pages. She took her coffee with two sugars and took two chocolate-macadamia-nut cookies.

Kamski had watched her in the shower, sized her up like a piece of meat; guessing at her weight and body fat percentage and filling the blank lines with lecherous commentary on her softening breasts and rounded lower belly. It was peppered with language that promised a feast: her form delicious, thighs plump and juicy, something to be worshipped and then consumed.

The later weeks made clear Kamski’s intentions in no uncertain terms-- _popped button olive shorts_ on week fourteen; _four cupcakes Mon night_ on week seventeen, with chicken-scratch calorie counts added up in the margins. Connor swallowed back nausea.

He flipped through the journal until he reached the current pages.

 _Connor Stern_ , read the top line, followed by a physical description that was neither flattering nor unflattering.

_Lives alone._

_Takes well to strawberry and creamy dishes_ , early in the weekly logs. He flipped the page. _Gorgeous appetite, took six donuts unprompted_ , Kamski had noted on a date four weeks earlier.

Connor felt the cold discomfort buzzing in his fingertips. In the silence of the room, the handle of the door clicked like the cocking of a gun.

“More clever than I thought, then,” Elijah hissed from the doorway.

He filled the space between them before Connor could react, grabbing him roughly by the arm.

“You tease me, Connor, take pleasure in testing my willpower with your innocent little jokes… and I’m trying to _fatten you up and have you for dessert_ , hm?”

Connor shifted and opened his mouth to speak, but he was paralyzed with panic. Kamski wrenched him off the ground and slammed him back against the door, and Connor let out a pained gasp. Elijah leaned in so close that Connor could feel his hot breath on his cheek.

“So curious, and so dedicated to your work. Willing to give me a chance, despite my... unusual appearance,” Kamski added, and a smile played across his face. “Naive, perhaps, if you’d allow me that.”

Elijah gently squeezed his belly, and Connor felt embarrassment color his cheeks despite his fear.

“I imagine you joke to hide that you’re a bit ashamed. But you shouldn’t be… you’ve gotten so deliciously plump for me,” Elijah murmured.

“Elijah--”

He squirmed, and Kamski’s coils tightened around him faster than the snap of elastic.

“Sshhh,” Elijah soothed, groping at his ass. “You were only curious, weren’t you?”

His hand found its way to Connor’s cheek, and his fingertips brushed through the hair at his temple. Connor’s breaths were quick and shallow, his heartbeat fluttering like a rabbit’s.

“Perhaps you’d have been insulted if I never told you looked good enough to eat. It’s not enough, even, to say that,” Kamski added, cupping the boy’s cheek. “It’s the cruelest siren’s call, Connor, one you would never understand.”

“You-- were cursed,” Connor managed. “It’s not your fault.”

He didn’t believe that, but it wasn’t important. Kamski looked away, refusing Connor’s eye contact when he continued.

“You know, this all behaves predictably…” Kamski murmured, gesturing where his lower belly met the dark scales of his snakelike body. “When I was first… transformed, I didn’t eat much more than I did as a human.”

He laughed humorlessly.

“But it was a curse of greed. Took what kept me going for 14-hour days back at CyberLife and gave it back as a baser sort of hunger. I'm sure years ago I could eat an average portion and be satisfied. Used to have Chloe call for pizza,” he sighed.

He caught Connor’s eyes as he rubbed slow, idle circles on the boy’s soft thigh.

“If I ordered delivery now, I’d only eat the driver.”

And that was it, that was the confession, and Connor felt his breath catch in his throat like he was choking.

Kamski smiled self-indulgently at his own little not-quite-joke and gently pushed the sweat-sticky hair loose from Connor’s forehead.

“You knew, my sweet.”

Connor knew-- of course he knew-- and he had fantasized, felt that sick curiosity and danger flood his chest when Elijah wrapped his tail a little too tightly around Connor's now-pudgy middle. With time, he had gotten loose with his compliments-- telling Connor he looked gorgeous, perfect, _delicious_ as he left dark hickeys on the boy’s inner thighs.

“Worst of all, you know, was that you were so willing,” Elijah purred, snapping Connor’s attention back to his face, his narrowed eyes and his cruel smile. “Two months in and you’d eagerly let me hand-feed you whatever you’d picked that evening-- cream puffs and strawberries and those white chocolate truffles that are your favorite. You give a monster the benefit of the doubt so easily that you rest in his coils while he feeds you the treats that will plump you up for him to devour.”

Connor tried to free himself again with a stuttered gasp, and his stomach twisted with shame as he struggled against the weight of Kamski’s coils. Elijah watched with a cruel satisfaction.

“You were helpless to constriction from the start, of course, what with your size compared to mine... but all the more helpless with that extra layer of pudge over a little less muscle, and I watched you grow softer and softer…”

He pinned Connor’s upper body to the door demonstratively, gripping his forearms, and Connor pushed up against his weight almost by instinct before realizing how fruitless it would be. Elijah laughed and released him before giving Connor’s middle a gentle pat.

“That greedy little belly of yours rounded out so gorgeously once you were stuffed with all the treats you could want. I have always been hopelessly aroused by your naivety-- but your gluttony does it one better.”

“Please-- I’ll stop--”

“You’ll stop? My angel, I’d never ask you to give up anything you wanted.”

“I don’t want you to,” Connor whimpered, squirming and rolling his hips up into Elijah’s tail  almost involuntarily. “Please-- please--”

But Elijah’s hold on him was like a vice, and his coils tightened greedily at Connor’s fearful whimpers. He kissed sloppily along the boy’s jawline with a soft moan, leaving Connor’s skin wet with saliva. Connor shuddered.

“ _Connor,_ ” Kamski mumbled into his neck, groping at Connor’s love handles between the coils of his tail, “rewarding my patience like this… you _spoil_ me.”

He took Connor’s cheek in his hand and smiled, wide and hungry. His tail-tip cinched around Connor’s wrists as his jaw eased apart to expose the true horror of his mouth: gaping like a rattlesnake’s, stretched wide enough to swallow him whole.

Connor winced and jerked away, but Elijah grabbed him by the chin to meet his eyes. In the half-lit room, back against the door, he was sure it had been here: it would have been too easy for Kamski to have pinned an unwitting visitor small enough to gulp down his waiting throat.

“HELP!” Connor screamed, so loud he surprised himself. “HELP ME--”

Elijah clapped a hand over his mouth, but Connor jerked his head away. Kamski used his other hand to pin him to the door by the throat.

“No one is around to hear you.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @sybaritick if you enjoy 😘


End file.
